


Mind Palace Melodies

by DaringlyDomestic



Series: Domestic Angsty Fluffy One-Shots [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 19:17:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5882419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaringlyDomestic/pseuds/DaringlyDomestic





	Mind Palace Melodies

The flat is warm and John’s stomach is full. The quiet domesticity is lulling him to sleep...or maybe it was that glass of whiskey. He is slumped contentedly in his chair and is wearing his oatmeal jumper that Sherlock loves. Speaking of Sherlock, John looks up and contemplates the man. Jesus, he is beautiful. All angles and sharp edges. His elbow cocked as he pulls the bow expertly across the strings of the violin tucked under his chin. John’s heart warms. God, he loves this man.

Sherlock is a concert-level violinist. He can pull heart-wrenching melodies from those strings as easily as he can stab short harsh bursts. Many evenings in 221B end like this. Sherlock playing and John in his chair, watching in contentment, amazement, frustration, adoration…

But these nights are his favorite. Sherlock has been inside his own head all day. John’s not even sure if Sherlock knows he’s here. The cup of tea and plate of toast sit undisturbed on the small table next to Sherlock’s chair where the detective had been hunched, unmoving all day. John had been tidying up for the night and had just sat down with a small glass of whiskey, when Sherlock stood suddenly. John was so startled that some of the whiskey sloshed onto his sleeve. “Christ, Sherlock!” But Sherlock had not acknowledged him at all. He paced a few lengths of the room before making a disgusted noise and picking up the violin. He ran his fingers thoughtfully over the strings and settled as he raised the instrument. Sherlock had started with loud angry chords of frustration, but had eventually transitioned smoothly into softer, darker notes of despair and resignation.

It’s not that John likes Sherlock’s unhappiness. Quite the opposite - he hates it. But the man is typically so closed off, so enigmatic that John can never tell what goes on in that great head of his. Whereas Sherlock can read every detail of his life in one glance. But when Sherlock plays from his mind palace, he plays with his heart (the one he pretends not to have). He isn’t conscious of playing, so he makes no effort to screen his emotions. John treasures these nights and honestly feels a little honored that Sherlock trusts him enough to be this vulnerable. All his thoughts, all his feelings are laid bare and John can’t take it anymore. He waits for the end of the movement and rises from his chair. Slowly he walks over to Sherlock and rests a steady gentle hand on his elbow. Sherlock turns away. John follows and lightly grabs his elbow this time. Pulls it down and away so that it rests at his side instead of hovering over the violin.

“Sherlock.” John murmurs. He know it will take a few more times to draw his genius out, but he doesn’t give up. He stands patiently and gazes into the light ethereal eyes he loves so much. After a few minutes, they begin to darken as Sherlock’s awareness returns. Sherlock startles when he notices how close John is standing but smiles when he sees John’s kind, open, anxious face. He places the violin back in its case and hauls John over to the sofa. After forcing him down, Sherlock flops onto his back so that his head rest in John’s lap. He knows John can’t help running his hands through Sherlock’s soft black curls. John does just that. Sherlock makes small happy noises and John dips to place a soft kiss on his forehead. Sherlock makes a surprised noise and his cheeks pink. John loves that. Even after all this time, Sherlock is still surprised that John loves him like this. In the soft quiet moments when Sherlock is neither a demanding genius nor a mad scientist. He is just complicated, flawed, and brilliantly human.


End file.
